A/N: Chapter updated (24/01/23)

They were back in the car, driving towards his new temporary home. This time, he was immersed in his thoughts, and her reckless driving wasn't bothering him anymore. Talking about love left him thinking of how things ended with Yen. Once the djin broke the spell, his feelings for her disappeared like a wisp of smoke that had been clouding his mind for years and now that he looked back at their relationship, he could remember only turmoil. Lust, longing, regrets, mistakes, turmoil and pain. And if a love that felt so real could disappear so quickly, maybe he really was unable to truly feel anything.

What if Istredd had been right and all he could ever feel was just an atavistic vestige? Some useless lingering memory of a feeling he was no longer capable of?

No, it couldn't be true. Maybe in Yen's case his love was the djin's doing, but he loved Ciri like a daughter and no spell had been put upon him. If nothing else, at least for her, he felt something. He also worried like a parent – for her wellbeing and happiness, especially now that he and Yen separated. Unlike him, Ciri hadn't undergone any transformations, so her ability to love wasn't under question, but he and Yen had been a poor example of a healthy relationship. Maybe it was lucky that Ciri had different preferences. He looked at the woman beside him and a thought struck him – her awkward qualification for her relationship with Ciri.

Before he knew it, he was already speaking his question, albeit awkwardly.

"You said Ciri made you feel less alone." She nodded in response, so he continued. "Did you and Ciri... Were you two..."

He didn't know how to ask delicately, and she seemed confused by his unfinished questions. He drew in a breath and blurted out.

"I know she prefers women."

"And?" she asked with a shrug.

Either he was being too subtle or she was acting dumb, pretending she didn't know what he was getting at.

"Did you and her... err..." he fumbled, hoping she'd clue in and save him the embarrassment of asking her directly. "Were you an item?" he finally got out.

"Oh! That's what you meant!" Her eyebrows raised in surprise as she shot him a side glance. "No, we weren't. But what does it matter, anyway?"

"It doesn't. I was just curious," he lied without blinking. "Sorry if my question was inappropriate."

"It was, but lucky for you, I don't take offence easily," she replied, relaxed.

She drew into her parking spot and let him take the lead on the way back, checking to see what he remembered. Picking up details and information from his surroundings was something he always had a knack for, so he had no trouble getting back to her apartment.

"I have a feeling you're going to fit in record time," she said, looking delighted as she used the keycard to open the door. "You're really surpassing my expectations at every step."

He hummed and passed her, carrying the groceries into the kitchen. She followed behind him, continuing to chatter.

"I think I'll make shrimp with rice. I have a fantastic recipe that I hope you'll like. Then maybe some ice cream for dessert." Her stomach growled low and she looked hungry enough to eat a wolf.

He sat at the kitchen island and watched her put away the groceries. A lot could be gathered from the way a person moved, and she was nothing if not practical. There was no unnecessary lingering on any task and yet, despite the efficiency in her movements, there was grace in how she carried herself.

His gaze drifted over her body and he caught himself lingering on her curves. The way she dressed made it impossible for him to not occasionally stare. She still had on the high heels she wore to the store. The shoes didn't seem comfortable at all, but they made her legs look even longer and the silhouette of her muscles show through the tight-fitted pants. No one except sorceresses and working girls could get away with showing so much skin in public, but all the women in this world seemed to wear tight or revealing clothing. Some of their garments would have fit right in at the Passiflora. Not that he minded - it made for a marvellous view - but he found he had to remind himself that ogling was inappropriate in this context.

His mind drifted back to the young woman in the store openly flirting with him. Her overture had been downright bold, and her offer even bolder.

If Dandelion had been there, he would have tried his luck with each and every woman in this world. It would have been a dream come true for the bard. And, judging from the attitude of the blonde that approached him, Dandelion might even have some chances of success, although his ballads would seem out of place. The music he heard didn't resemble the bard's songs, and that wasn't a bad thing. He had little appreciation for Dandelion's songs, especially when they concerned him. Having his private life be the constant fuel for Dandelion's compositions had become a nuisance over the years. People constantly made assumptions about him and everyone who recognized him expected something. He found himself smiling, thinking of the fact that Criss was right; no one had stared or pointed at him. Instead, he got propositioned by an attractive woman. It wasn't a bad start; he might have a chance to actually enjoy his time there.

He looked up at Criss. She had put the food on the stove and she was staring at him.

"Huh? Did you say something?" he guessed.

"I just said that it's nice to see you smile."

"I was just thinking of a friend. Imagining what he would think of your world."

"Huh... Would he find it strange?" she frowned.

"He'd love it, especially the women." He grinned at her, and she seemed amused.

"Oh dear, your mind's still on the blonde in the store! Hmm, maybe I should think of a way to give you two some privacy if you really can't get over her." She pinched her chin between two fingers. "But even if you were ok with me waiting by the door while you two... you know... I'm sure she'd find it strange if you went to pick her up with another woman that follows you around everywhere…"

His unbridled laugh interrupted her. It wasn't very polite of him, but he couldn't help it.

"What if I told you she was hitting on us both?"

Her jaw dropped and her face went pink, making him laugh even harder.

"You're joking, right?"

"Not really. She saw us both in the store and thought we were a couple. She wondered if we were interested in her joining us 'to spice things up' as she put it."

She went from pink to red under his eyes.

"You must be joking, there's no way... Oh... Is that why you asked about me and Ciri? To know if I would be interested in a woman? Is this your idea of a proposition?"

He couldn't tell if she was flustered, outraged or plain angry, but it was better to not risk it and just wiped the grin off his face. Experience had taught him that angry sorceresses could be very dangerous.

"No, that's not why I asked," he replied, all serious again.

Her face returned to her normal colour, yet by the way her brows furrowed, her mind was still on their conversation. Could she be considering the blonde's proposition? He smiled and imagined how it would feel to have her long legs wrapped around him or perhaps they'd share the blonde between them. His thoughts were becoming dangerously heated, so he shook them off before she caught on. Yen, and all the other sorceresses for that matter, had made a habit of reading his mind and he didn't know if Criss was doing the same. If she was, there was a good chance he'd end up dodging firebolts and lighting.

Thankfully, no magic bolt came from above to strike him down for his inappropriate thoughts. She was too busy brewing something in a kettle. The bitter smell coming from it overpowered all other scents in the kitchen.

"The coffee is almost done."

"How fast should it take effect?"

"I don't know. Maybe half an hour, maybe less."

She took the coffee pot off the stove and let the mixture settle before pouring it into a cup. The colour was almost black, and he eyed it suspiciously.

"I made it very strong. Judging on your size, I'm going on the assumption that you'll need a large quantity of caffeine to get anywhere."

"Anything I should know about before drinking it?"

"It's a stimulant. But it might also cause nervousness, heart palpitations, excessive sweating, tremors or anxiety." She looked up from the cup. "If you don't want to drink it, that's fine. I don't intend to make you do anything you don't want."

"Give it here."

"It might be a little bitter and..." She didn't get to finish the sentence before he downed the whole cup. "Oh... um, let me know if you feel any different."

The liquid was still hot, and it was indeed a little bitter, but not unpleasant.

"Let's eat while it takes effect." She divided the food into two portions and pushed the larger one towards him. "Hope you like it. I'm not sure if you've had shellfish before. I didn't even think to ask if you were allergic to anything."

"I've had shellfish. It's not something unique to your world," he replied with a tinge of snark in his voice. His world might not be as advanced as hers, but they knew good food. "Besides, witchers are immune to most poisons and diseases."

He took the first bite; the food was a tasty mixture of sweet and salty. Having someone cook for him was something he could get used to although he had been rightfully skeptical at first. Sorceresses had never been known for their prowess in the kitchen, although some were excellent seamstresses, like Triss. However, they had other skills that more than compensated for the awful food they made. Another lust-filled image clouded his thoughts.

"What's wrong? Is the food bad?" she asked, seeing him shake his head.

"No, it's quite good actually," he replied, trying to get a handle on his thoughts. It was like his mind was that of a horny adolescent.

"Then what? Is the coffee kicking in?"

"No, not yet at least."

"Hmm, perhaps you are immune, but let's give it a little more time. Maybe you can tell me more about your... profession... caste? Not sure what is the right word. Ciri didn't go into great detail and I've never visited your world."

He chewed and swallowed a bite, thankful she wasn't pressing on. Maybe a little conversation would help keep his thoughts in check.

"What do you want to know about witchers?"

"Everything!" she replied with enthusiasm.

He stopped with his fork hanging in mid-air and looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Everything you're willing to tell me, of course. I just thought that I've been talking all day about me and my world, but I know next to nothing about yours."

"What did Ciri tell you?" he asked.

"Well, she told me you were trained to kill monsters, and you were one of the best, if not the best, and had taught her to fight. She said that you two were bound by destiny, that she was a Child Surprise, which made you effectively her father and you two would always find a way back to each other." She smiled. "She also said that you can be grumpy, but I suspect that's a you thing more than a witcher thing."

It was not the description he had expected, but then again, he wasn't sure what he expected.

"My kind was made through mutations and trained to kill monsters that roamed the world after the Conjunction of Spheres. There used to be many more of us at one time, but now there are very few witchers left and there will never be more once we eventually get killed off."

He felt antiquated whenever he thought about the inevitable demise of his kind. They were vestiges of a time long passed and now they were needed less and less each day.

"You were made? So you weren't born a witcher?"

Apparently, Ciri hadn't told her very much at all.

"No, no one is born a witcher. Witchers can't have children of their own. We took in boys who were orphaned or whose parents couldn't afford to feed them along with those who came to us through the Law of Surprise. It's a fate none of them would have chosen for themselves. Those who survived the mutations inflicted through Trials and Changes became witchers and started walking the Path, hunting monsters for money."

"But if you protect people, why aren't there more witchers? I imagine your services would be highly sought after."

"We did our job too well. There are fewer monsters by the decade and now people fear us more than they need us. To them, we're dangerous mutants who take children away from their parents. I had been on the Path for a few decades when the witcher fortresses were destroyed, and most of us were killed by humans, although just as many or more died doing what they were made to do - take risks no sane man would. As a result, the knowledge behind the Trials was lost and there hasn't been a Trial in almost half a century."

"A half-century? How old are you exactly?" she asked, studying his face and hair with curiosity. At least she hadn't expressed an interest in dissecting his eyes like some other mage he knew.

"Hmm, I lost track at some point... too old probably." It truly felt that way some days, even more when he spent this much time talking and thinking about the past, of everything he had seen and lived and lost.

"So the Trials extend the lifespan of witchers."

"Among other things. Few know that they also killed seven in ten boys, but the ones who survived gained abilities that gave them an advantage when fighting monsters and that's all that anyone sees."

"Like your eyes?"

"Yes, they allow me to see better in the dark. My hearing and sense of smell are also heightened. We're more agile, have better reflexes, and are generally stronger than normal humans. We also heal faster and gain immunity to common ailments. Potions further increase our abilities and we can cast simple spells called Signs. Mages designed the Trials to make us into killing machines as deadly as the beasts hunted. They gave us a fighting chance... and hurt like all living hell." He winced at the memory of his last Trial; it was a horror deeply etched into his mind.

"You've had to pay a steep price to keep others safe and were rewarded with hate. Your world has little compassion and gratitude, it seems, but you continue to keep it safe. It's commendable."

"Either that or very, very stupid," he snorted.

The discussion seemed to have saddened her. It was no wonder since there weren't many happy things about being a witcher. He squeezed her shoulder to snap her out of her dark mood.

"I didn't mean to be depressing."

His touch made her look up at him; her eyes were those of someone much older who had seen her fair share of pain. He wasn't sure if what he was seeing was empathy or if she was just remembering her own trauma, but it seemed to have made her feel miserable, and he was sorry for that.

She placed her hand on top of his, shook her head, and smiled again.

"Oh, you just answered my question. It's not your fault the world is the way it is. Let's get back to enjoying our lunch. There's so much we still need to do today and feeling down won't help us at all."

"You're probably right." He forced a smile and went back to his plate.

"Still nothing? No effect from the coffee?" she asked when they were done eating.

"Not really. I don't feel any different."

"Hmm, it was worth a try. Too bad it didn't pay off. I'll have to remember to sit when treating you, else you might have to catch me again."

He nodded, remembering how she had looked that morning. She had gone chalk white and the flutter of her heart nearly ceased. It was lucky he caught her just in time or she would have ended up on the kitchen floor.

"The couch is more comfortable than these chairs. Plus there's more space for me to faint," she joked and sat next to him.

She reached out, but instead of placing her hand on his chest, she absentmindedly undid a button on his shirt. His breath caught in his throat as he waited to see what she'd do next. Her index traced the wolf's head outline of his medallion. It caught him off guard; her gesture felt intimate and her touch was pleasant, almost electric.

"Hmm, it's enchanted. What's its purpose?" she asked with her eyes on the silver amulet.

She turned it in her hands, touching the metal without fear. Triss always avoided it, not even Yen liked to touch his medallion. She always made him take it off before bedding her. Neither of them had given him an explanation, but it must have been due to the aura emanating from the object.

"It's a symbol of the school of witchers I belong to and it's supposed to warn me when monsters are around or someone is using magic." After a moment's hesitation, he decided to test her. "I think it's damaged or broken. It failed to react to you healing me," he explained calmly.

"It's not broken, it's just not attuned to the type of magic I use for healing. Chaos isn't the only magic out there."

She paused and looked into his eyes, then added. "I can enhance it to detect my magic if that would make you feel safer around me."

"Safer? Do you think I fear you?"

"I hope not, but if you did, you wouldn't be the first."

"You're making it sound like I should."

She shied away from his gaze and caressed his skin from his medallion to his heart. He held his breath as her touch was now more than pleasant and the gesture seemed more than friendly.

"Are you ready?" she asked in her calm, measured voice.

"Mhm," he grunted.

This time he didn't close his eyes, instead, he watched her expression change while she transferred energy into him. Her heartbeat slowed and her skin shimmered lightly for a second. He caught her again as she was about to faint.

What was there to fear, he wondered. She was fragile in his hands. One grasp too tight and she'd bruise. But dangerous magic could be wielded by the most delicate of creatures. And what was more dangerous than a creature that could take your soul?

It took only a few seconds for her to regain consciousness.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I told you it won't kill me."

"I know you said that, but how do you actually know? Has this happened to you before?"

"I just know."

"But if you haven't experienced it before, you can't be sure. It looked like the life was draining from you."

"In a way it was, but that's part of the process. Just... don't worry."

There was no point to keep pushing for an answer. She was adamant, and he didn't have a choice but to continue if he ever wanted to get back to Ciri.

"Fine..." he conceded. "What now?"

"Back to lessons, if you want." She thought for a second. "I can't decide what to show you next. I think maybe a bit of general history would be appropriate, but it's not my forte. Maybe a documentary is a better choice."

She picked up a slim rectangular object from her desk.

"This is a laptop. I won't bore you with technicalities, but we can use it to connect to the internet and watch a documentary." She hummed to herself. "It will be easier to show rather than explain what a documentary is."

She pressed a series of buttons on it, making the corresponding signs appear on the glowing screen.

"Is that the internet?" he asked, trying to anticipate her explanation.

"Hmm... yes and no. We'd better leave that one for tomorrow. It'll take a long time to instruct you on using a computer."

"I think I did pretty well so far."

"You did, but theory and practice are two different things."

"But is it even necessary? I can't possibly imagine what use that would have to me," he said pointing at the laptop.

She laughed. "Trust me, you'll find a use for it. Everybody does... even if it's just to watch porn," she muttered the last part to herself.

"Porn?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and she blushed to the tip of her ears.

"Damn, I forgot about your superhuman hearing," she sighed. "Once you're on the internet, I'm sure you'll discover it on your own quick enough and no explanations will be needed. Although, there's some pretty weird stuff out there."

She laughed to herself as she searched for the documentary, but he failed to see what amused her. Once she declared she found it, a series of images rolled on the screen. She explained something about reenacting historical events and being able to use a device to record the images so they could be replayed at any time. They spent the rest of the afternoon watching documentaries about what their culture considered relevant past events.

"There's no way I'm going to remember all that," he said after the second one.

"You don't need to," she said with a smile. "Just listen to it as if it were a story. All you need is a general idea of the world you're in."

As the sun set outside, they were on their fifth documentary and even her stomach growled in protest.

"Maybe we should take a break and eat something," he suggested.

"You're right, I completely forgot that I promised you ice cream."

She didn't wait for his reply. Instead, she went to the freezer to pull out the containers she bought that day.

"Each scoop of ice cream has a different flavour," she said, placing a bowl and teaspoon in front of him.

It was cold and much too sweet for his taste.

"How is it?" she asked eagerly.

"It resembles something they would serve at a banquet."

"You're not crazy about it," she shrewdly guessed.

"I think I prefer your cooking." He didn't want to offend her by outright saying that he didn't like it, but he abandoned the rest of the bowl on the table.

"I can make you something else. It's better if you tell me you don't like something rather than suffer through it."

"That's nice of you to offer, but the sweetness killed my appetite and I'm not really all that hungry."

She sighed and walked up to the large glass windows that took up the entire wall. The sky was dark, but the bustling city below was bright with lights. He came up behind her and his thoughts turned inappropriate once more as his gaze drifted down her shirt. He resisted the urge to put his arm around her waist and pull her back into his chest. She caught him watching her, so he moved his eyes to the city sprawled outside the window, thinking of something clever to say.

"It's a lovely view, but it's all artificial. I guess your technology and nature don't match very well."

"You don't even know how right you are... unfortunately." She paused. "Do you want to go out and walk for a bit?"

"You mean drive?"

"No, just walk. There's a small park nearby that I think you might like. A little more nature and a little less technology there."

"Sure. Wouldn't mind stretching my legs a bit."

"Great, I could use a bit of fresh air." She turned and headed for the hall, and he followed her.

"I don't mean to offend you, but... Aren't you going to change your shoes? Those look very uncomfortable and I doubt they're meant for walking long distances."

"You don't like them?" she asked, surprised.

"It's not a matter of liking them, they look very... nice." He was thinking she looked nice in them, but he didn't know if she would appreciate the compliment. "I just imagine they're hard to walk in."

Women and their less-than-practical choices shouldn't amaze him anymore. After all, Yen and Ciri preferred heels too.

"I'll be fine. Shall we?"

She pointed to the door, and he nodded in response. He didn't feel the need to scout the corridor anymore; now he could focus his attention just on her as they crossed the hallway to the elevator. For the second time that day, he admired the grace in her movements. Her hips swayed in a very feminine way, and his eyes were inadvertently drawn to them. He shook his head and forced himself to focus on something else.

The park was only a few minutes away once they made their way out of the building, greeting the reception staff on their way out.

"You're going to be the talk of the building," she mused as they walked out.

"I thought you said no one would notice me."

"I didn't say they wouldn't notice you. I said no one will comment anything rude, but you're hard to miss."

"So basically it's the same as home."

"I didn't mean it in a bad way. At all."

"How did you mean it then?" he asked, intrigued.

She thought for a second before answering.

"You are... an exceptionally looking man. And... the reception staff likes to gossip... and Tom saw you this morning in my apartment, wearing just a bathrobe."

"I see. And is that something special enough for them to notice?"

"Hmm, yes, it's been a while since they saw me with anyone."

"So, it bothers you they think that?"

"I don't care what they think. It's none of their business and people will gossip no matter what you do."

They walked in silence for a while, following the winding paths in the park. It was indeed more natural than the rest of the city, but it was curated nature, manicured to perfection, nothing wild about it. Beautiful, but contrived.

"Why haven't they seen you with anyone?" he dared to ask, even if he suspected the answer might be too personal. The corner of her mouth lifted in a wry smile.

"Because I haven't liked anyone in a while, which of course is not a prerequisite for some things, but you can say that I've grown to be choosy of late. I guess everyone has their crazy youthful years where they... give their phone number to a lot of people, and don't get me wrong, that feels good and everything, but at the end of the night none of those people can ever really know or understand me. It would mean living a perpetual lie and I can only keep that up for so long. I want honesty, someone I can tell all my secrets to and not have them judge me for them." She paused, then added. "I guess this is the downside to living in a world without magic."

"Are you content with that? You have other options, I'm sure. You could travel or even move to somewhere else, to some other world where you wouldn't have to hide."

"I could and maybe one day I will, when my parents are gone and when I can no longer hide the fact that I don't age."

"You've developed your own anti-ageing potion?"

"Potion?" she asked, confused.

"Using a mandrake concoction is common among mages where I'm from."

She shook her head. "It's not due to any potion. It's a side-effect of my work. Ciri will likely experience the same once she's done maturing and her brain is fully developed, at twenty-seven or twenty-eight."

"And what work is that?"

She hummed with her eyes on the pavement. "It's complicated," she said, dodging an answer.

"Try me."

"Perhaps another time."

They walked for a long time in silence before she asked if they should go back to the apartment. She shivered and he regretted not having a jacket to give her, instead he put an arm around her to try to warm her. She looked surprised by his gesture.

"I noticed you were cold," he said apologetically. "If it bothers you..."

"Thank you." She smiled and leaned into his side to feel his warmth and, as the wind blew, the scent of her perfume inundated him.

They walked together back to the apartment building, his hand still around her. When they passed the reception desk, he saw out of the corner of his eye the glances the personnel gave them. She had been right; the two girls at the desk were elbowing each other as they passed by. Criss didn't seem to notice; she was lost in thought. He sympathized with her; he was no stranger to loneliness, but at least he didn't have to hide.

He called the elevator and walked in, guiding her. He waited until they were in front of the apartment door before removing his hand from around her shoulders. That snapped her back to reality.

"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"You seemed to be deep in thought, and I didn't want to disturb you. Are you tired?"

"A bit, but even so, we should have another healing session before going to bed."

She took off her shoes and walked bare feet to the couch. Sitting with her legs tucked underneath her, she patted the seat next to her. He sat beside her, one leg under him, turned to face her, and waited patiently for her to reach out.

She took a deep breath in. Her palm felt cold at first, no doubt from the chilly air outside, but it only took a few seconds for it to warm up as energy flowed through it. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the pleasant feeling. Her healing had gone from excruciatingly painful to what felt like a warm embrace. He forgot himself for a moment and just reveled in it. Before he knew it, the feeling faded, and her hand went limp and slid off his chest to his leg.

He opened his eyes to her slumped to the side with her head resting on the couch. His sharp hearing listened to her faint heartbeat slowly grow stronger until it returned to normal. It only took a minute before she opened her eyes and stared at him, confused.

"Sorry, I should have caught you," he apologized.

She stretched and yawned, unbothered by his apparent lack of care, or by his apology.

"No matter. It seems I really need to get some sleep."

She lazily got up and walked toward the bedroom door with him behind her.

While she disappeared into the bathroom to wash up and change, he looked through the pile of clothes that had been delivered that morning. He found a pair of shorts that looked comfortable and decent enough to sleep in.

He changed and got into bed and in a few minutes she came out, with no trace of makeup left on her face. Her eyes were a little puffy, but it took nothing away from her beauty. Her features were not overly sharp, and her skin and hair had a balance of warm and cold undertone to them. Looking at her made him think of a cold but sunny winter day.

She sat down at the dressing table, picked up a small container, and applied the contents to her face and neck. This was one thing she had in common with the other sorceresses. He had seen Yen applying such creams many times. With a hand under his head, he watched as her hand slid down from her neck to her chest. His eyes were drawn to the deep neckline of her shirt.

There was something sensual in her movements that made his whole body stir and his mind conjure images of her touching herself. Before long, he had to make a conscious effort to chase them away. However, the physical result the images produced was not so easy to hide. Even if this reassured him that his body was functioning properly once again, his reaction would make for an awkward conversation if she noticed he got hard while gazing at her. He shifted to his side and tried to focus on something else.

When she was done, she went to the armchair and made herself cosy, holding on to the pillow once again.

"Geralt, would you turn off the light, please?" she asked in a tired voice.

"Why are you sleeping in that chair? This bed is big enough for both of us and I'm wearing clothes today."

Having her in bed next to him was a recipe for disaster, but it felt strange for him to let her sleep in a chair when he had an enormous bed all to himself.

She seemed to think a little before answering, and a faint blush washed over her for just a moment.

"I... sometimes don't sleep too good... there's a good chance you'd get kicked."

It was plain that wasn't the only reason.

"I thought you said you'd never lie," he teased her.

"I'm not lying. Let's just leave it at that... Please."

"Suit yourself, but if you change your mind during the night, you're welcome to join me. It's your bed after all."

She nodded and laid her head on the armrest. He turned off the light and she drifted to sleep within minutes.

Her healing invigorated him, and he felt he could run a marathon. Or train. That was something he needed badly if he didn't want to lose his edge in combat and become soft while living this cosy life.

He looked at her. She was tossing and turning, the blanket had half fallen off her and she was sleeping on her back with one leg flexed. Her shirt and pants had partly rolled up, revealing the side of her stomach and her leg up to her hip. It only reminded him of the lust that plagued him, so he turned to his other side to avoid staring at her. He didn't know when sleep finally gripped him.